Zana believes she can stop death. After all, why else would she receive prophetic dreams? Now she just has to actually save someone. But nothing prepares her for the Lunar Festival’s events; a tragic death, her vile ex acting all cave-man on her, and the sudden appearance of Shadow, a hunky and arrogant Guardian from the kingdom. Except, she’s done with men after what her last one did to her. But when her latest vision shows Shadow’s demise, she is determined to prove her gift is a blessing not curse.

Shadow is visiting his uncle for a small vacation. When he stumbles across a murdered family member, eliminating the threat is a must. Bumping into Zana at the crime scene, a beautiful vixen, smart and stubborn, has him questioning her involvement. But when she declares he’s in danger and will protect him, he’s not sure if he should be flattered or insulted.

As they close in on the killer, Shadow starts to believe the real danger might be losing Zana and the grip she has on his heart. Will Zana and Shadow survive a danger beyond their imagination?

This is a standalone, steamy paranormal romance with a HEA.

Shadow’s hands shook as he clenched the goblin’s shoulders and pinned her to the wall. He glanced at the knife she’d dropped at his feet. Not a speck of blood stained the weapon. Or had she wiped it before he’d arrived? The girl didn’t behave like a killer. He’d encountered enough in his lifetime to recognize one. But why had she been crouching over Klurt with a blade? Evil did come in all guises.

“I’ll ask only one more time,” he demanded, his voice climbing. “Did you murder my uncle?”

Her eyes were watery pools, and the healed scratch from brow to cheek told him she’d seen her share of fights. When she spoke, she growled. “Get off me. I found him like this. I work at the markets.”

Shadow loosened his hold, and she pulled free, dropping to her feet. She reached his chin in height.

“Who are you?” he asked, blocking her way out of the office in case she bolted.

His gaze swept to his uncle. The goblin who had given him, an orphan, a roof as a child, fed him—had offered Shadow hope. The image in front of him undid him completely. Klurt had taken in every stray goblin, taught them respect and discipline, pushed them to get an education. Someone with a heart as huge as Klurt’s should have never met such a vile ending.

Numbness threaded through Shadow, though, in his mind, he shoved away the emotions, the pain, just as he’d been trained to do in the queen’s army. Feelings made him weak, and that moment was about him taking charge.

The female in front of him with amber locks leaned over and picked up her blade. He backed up in case she swung the weapon.

“See? It’s clean.” Her voice held more power than her small frame would suggest. “I was chasing the killer, but he escaped.”

Okay. She wasn’t going to attack, though it was no real surprise she had a knife. With no law existing in Tapestry, everyone did what he or she had to. Sivath, the goblin chief, had been setting up an enforcement group to aid goblins, but that was four years ago. Maybe things had changed since Shadow was home last.

“What’s your name?” he demanded.

“Zana.” She tucked the blade into her boot.

The girl had a strong, angular face with golden irises and ruby lips. No blood on her clothes. But a trail of crimson splattered across the vinyl flooring in front of Klurt. Shadow studied Zana’s boots. Pristine. Blood stained her cheek as if she’d wiped it with the back of her hand, yet her natural beauty intrigued him—urged him to lower his guard—which was ridiculous. If it weren’t for her long ears, she’d pass for a human, and he didn’t recall there being a half-blood in town when he was last in Pryvale.

“You’re a half-goblin,” he stated.

She ignored him and knelt near Klurt again. Her body curled forward, and the softness of her cries tightened his chest.

What the shit was going on? The macabre scene wasn’t sinking in, yet the metallic smell clawed at his nostrils. It wasn’t the homecoming he’d expected. Weeks ago, he’d sent Klurt a message saying he was visiting for a few days, and, ever since, he’d been picturing the embraces, the laughter, and the food. He still had Klurt’s house key, so he had left his gifts there, found the Wart Markets location pinned to the pantry door, and then came to see his uncle at his work. Now the plans to create new memories and see Klurt chuckle again were stolen.

It was Shadow’s mistake; he should have gone to the office first, but none of that mattered. Only tracking down the culprit and making them pay mattered.

T.F. Walsh emigrated from Romania to Australia at the age of eight and now lives in a regional city south of Sydney with her husband. Growing up hearing dark fairytales, she’s always had a passion for reading and writing horror, paranormal romance, urban fantasy and young adult stories. She balances all the dark with light fluffy stuff like baking and traveling.